22-1-09: IP MAN AND ME

The great Wong Shun-leung.

Wong Sifu, a real legend in his lifetime!

Last meeting with Wong Sifu, also attended by Ip Man's sons, Ip Chun (blue jacket) and Ip Ching (mauve shirt). The other white fellow is Steve Lee Swift, American Wing Chun expert. In the waistcoat is Sam Kwok, UK-based Wing Chun teacher and super nice guy.

Looking back on my 'Beautiful Springtime' (part two)

Though I never really studied Wing Chun long enough to master anything but the basics, I have been, and still am, acquainted with some great experts in the art. Foremost among these was the great Wong Shun-leung, and various of his students.

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Wong was the acknowledged champion in the kung fu challenge matches then prevalent in prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /Hong Kong, and earned the nicknamed ‘Gong Sau Wong’. ‘Gong Sau’ is a colloquial Cantonese term meaning ‘talking hands’, literally, using your fists to resolve matters!, and ‘Wong’ means ‘king’.

 

I became aware of Wong Shun-leung when I was first making my way in the wild world of martial arts. I’d come into the orbit of this weird guy called Dave Lea. Looking back, I can’t believe we all took him so seriously. He looked like a pumped up fourth member of the Bee Gees. Anyway, he had big muscles and he could do the splits and, back in the day, that qualified him as a kung fu master. (He ended up teaching Latin Dance in Burbank, which just goes to show that no-one’s all bad…) Whatever his other failings, I have to thank Dave, because he introduced me to Nino Bernardo.

 

Nino is one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever met, and that’s actually saying something. A Macao native of Filipino extraction, Nino speaks nine languages (at least), is an accomplished singer and guitar virtuoso, a master of Kali, roller-blading expert…and did I mention he was a fantastic Wing Chun expert? Nino ran a London-based kung fu school, more like a workshop, in fact, called The Basement. Unfortunately, I didn’t live in London, so, to train with Nino and his students, I had to attend seminars at The Basement or elsewhere. When I started editing Combat magazine, I publicised Nino as best I could, and would travel with him to various locales when he was teaching and promoting the art. He wasn’t just a master of Wing Chun, he made it fun as well! (And that’s actually the main reason I continue with kung fu training to this day.)

 

It was through Nino that I first heard first-hand stories about Wong Shun-leung. As a student at Wong’s Hong Kong kwoon, Nino, who always seemed a lot younger than his actual years, offered many unique insights about his teacher, and so there was great excitement when we heard that Sifu Wong would teach a seminar at The Basement.

 

The great day arrived, and we gathered expectantly at the venue, waiting for the arrival of Kung Fu Superman. In his place, an amiable, middle-aged Chinese man strolled in, smoking a Camel cigarette, and casually hung his sweater on one arm of the Wing Chun wooden dummy. He proceeded to give a lecture, in Cantonese, on his art, working his way through the three fist forms of the Wing Chun system. I still have a videotape of the class, and, viewing it recently, was surprised when my younger self stepped into shot to assist with a demonstration.

 

Thanks to my position at the magazine, I got to spend quite a bit of personal time with Sifu Wong, for which I am very grateful. Over brandy one night, he started speaking English (or maybe it only seemed that way at the time!), and talked about Ip Man, about his own challenge matches and about the night Bruce Lee died. This wasn’t a formal interview, and Wong Shun-leung was very straightforward in his comments. You probably expect me to say he was a wonderful man, but that’s exactly the truth.

 

He was very much aware of the exaggerated expectations he engendered in younger students, and knew exactly how to deflate them. “One time”, he said, “I took on ten guys and escaped without a scratch? You want to know how?” Of course we did. Wong mimed himself running full tilt.

 

Once I remember a seminar attendee pressing him on the timeless question of which was the ‘best’ martial art. He considered for a while, and then responded, in his charmingly broken English, “It’s the singer, not the song.”

 

The last time I saw Sifu Wong was after I’d moved to Hong Kong. I had stayed focused on my Hung Kuen training, and only met Wing Chun players . One of these was Sam Kwok, and I took him to meet the great Sammo Hung on the set of the latter’s film Don’t Give A Damn. (This title led to an unintentional comedic exchange. What’s the name of this film?, I asked Sammo. “Don’t Give A Damn,” he replied. “Sorry I asked…” I muttered.)

 

That evening, I attended an HK Wing Chun Athletic Association dinner, where I encountered Sifu Wong, who was happily surprised to see me, and even more so when I chatted with him in my (then) passable Cantonese. He seemed to be in fine form, and, as is usually the case, I had no idea this would be the last time I’d see him alive.

 

Given my great affection and respect for Wong Sifu, I was honoured to able to attend his funeral service in Hong Kong. I’m not aware that anyone else from the UK Wing Chun community was able to attend. If that was the case, it was an even greater honour to represent them.

 

Someone who most definitely and deservedly did attend was my good friend David Peterson.

 

(Next: Meet David Peterson)